


Enough

by CarrotsandDragons



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Female Character of Color, Gen, Pining, Stream of Consciousness, but not really, more of a progression of thoughts, self indulgent thirst pining, thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrotsandDragons/pseuds/CarrotsandDragons
Summary: He Thinks About Love





	Enough

The storm crawled through the mountains like a beast seeking prey. It was dark. And there was nothing outside to see.

Hawke laughed a few paces behind him, and though he relished in the sound of it, Anders felt curiously guilty as well. 

He adored the sound of her voice, of course, loved the sound of her laughter, but today he felt as though he entered her room without permission,  read her diary, and went through her things.  

She was laughing with her sister, Bethany–the two of them sharing in some private moment he had no right to intrude on.  

Varric was there as well, petting Bianca and complaining about the rain.

But that didn’t matter, not really, because she laughed again and her voice seemed to echo off the walls in cheerful waves.

And though he risked a glance back, he tried not to seem too curious. After all, it was rude to stare.

But when he saw her, her dark skin warming by the fires glow, her amber gaze pooling in the heat, he smiled, his eyes lingering. 

Anders tried to turn before he was noticed, but Bethany happened to look his way. And her eyes were too wide to hold secrets (it was a familial trait.) He could see her trace the line between her sister and his gaze.

She smiled then and turned to her sister with a nudge and a knowing beam. And poor Anders felt a different kind of shame entirely. 

He didn’t need to see what was coming next and so turned away quickly, returning his attention to the mouth of the cave.

Behind him, he could hear the two speaking, though their voices were hushed by the drone of the rain. What they said he couldn’t imagine—he’s never had a sibling. Or so he thinks anyway. He could never be sure what happened after his parents gave him away.

And suddenly, that strange guilt from before returned to him; only now he realized what it was.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time he met Hawke, he thought her expedition was a fool’s errand. (There were better ways to make money than a stint down into the Deep Roads.) It was only when she told him of her sister that he understood.

“We need something to hide behind,” She told him. We.  

He’s never known an apostate with a family. In fact, he rarely, if ever, met other apostates; most mages were taken young and too few remembered their families.

He couldn’t imagine the strain of keeping one’s magic under wraps even a few years, let alone into his teens. But Bethany had. Even better, her own family protected her, sacrificed for her, loved her enough to keep her safe. Most mages, he thought, would kill for that. He would kill for that.

He’d always been closest to his father but learned at age 12 that his Father’s love for him was superficial at best. It was conditional, limited—based on the assumption he wasn’t a mage.

His Mother was a little better; she hadn’t been the person who turned him in but she didn’t exactly fight for him either. When he was crying, clinging to her skirts and begging her to let him stay, she hushed him and patted him up like a newborn babe. He could still remember the soothe in her voice when she told him “it would be okay.” 

She lied to him that day. 

But, still,  at least she had the decency to cry. That was something.

In the end, however, her tears didn’t matter. He was taken, dragged away. 

And his was just another story, no different than the friends he made: they had no one to fight for them, they were given up upon, and the thought never failed to make him angry. He was so angry–and he was sad as well. 

He wondered what it felt like, having a family like that, being loved enough to fight for.

In the circle, a love like that could not survive. The Templars made sure of it.

Though, when he thought of what he was now (possessed, tainted) he knew he didn’t deserve it.

Perhaps he never did.

“Anders?” Hawke’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife and he turned to her quickly. 

“Hawke,” he greeted her like the morning, “Did you need me for something?”

“Only to join you in your brooding.” She stopped and looked out into the storm with him, her eyes growing wide at the sight lightning.

“Be my guest,” He granted her a smile, hoping dearly that his fondness for her wasn’t shining in his eyes.

She stood beside him silently, looking pensive as she watched the rain. And it was nice, he thought, have her there with him. It was nice to have her company.

And so he stole another glance at her, discreetly this time (from the side.)

It was easy to see how hard she’d been fighting. After all, she had a fighter’s physique; tall, sturdy, well-proportioned…rounded off at the finest points and–He tried not to finish that last thought, however, and tried to return to the point at hand–She spent her whole life running and fighting for her family. He admired her for it.

He admired her for a lot of things.

It was selfish, he knew, to want her affection. She had more important matters to attend to; she had a family. Asking her to fight for him as well would be too cruel of a deed. She deserved to be happy. She’s fought enough already.

But still, in the quiet moments of his mind, the moments he allowed himself to dream, he hoped that maybe someday, someone like her could love someone like him. And there would be no templars, no chantry, no circle to tear them apart.

It would be a love met with joy, not fear. And it wouldn’t be used against them.

It would be a love worth fighting for; it wouldn’t end in tragedy or tranquility like other loves before. And perhaps most important of all, someone like him could be loved enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted anything to AO3 in a while, so have the last thing I posted to my blog.


End file.
